Another Day, Life
by Azar443
Summary: A series of oneshots of the life of Eowyn and Aragorn. WIP.
1. Midnight Dreary

**Author's Note: I actually planned for this fic to be a complete story, but then decided I was better doing it as a series of drabbles. I'll update as soon as I can, but in the mean time, read, review and enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and it's universe, and any recognizable characters mentioned, are not mine. They belong to Professor Tolkien.**

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It was in the middle of the night when two people sound asleep in each other's warm embrace were rudely woken up by the urgent voices and a heavy knock that rang through their room.

Eowyn opened her tired eyes and sat up, reaching for her husband. 'Aragorn, what..' Said man was already standing up and starting towards the door, curious as to why their peaceful slumber was disturbed. He hurried to his wife's side and gently laid her back down to the bed, hand brushing against her stomach and kissed her golden head. 'Go back to sleep my love, let me handle this. You have been through quite enough discomfort for the day.'Eowyn smiled wryly, bidding Aragorn good night before closing her eyes, weary. The child in her belly was stubborn, perhaps even more than she was. She had spent the day suffering from the little one's kicks and her back ached so. 'The child will be a handful once born,' she thought fondly, rubbing her slightly swelling belly and started to drift off to sleep.

Seeing his wife in peace, Aragorn smiled softly and silently slipped out of the room and into a corridor full of advisors and the Lord Faramir arguing at the top of their voices. Aragorn shook his head, exasperated. His advisors all seemed to act like bickering children at times, even his level headed steward.

'What is the matter?' His soft voice, while not raised was full of authority and a little hint of irritation that the shouting had woken him and his wife in this ungodly hour.

Everyone fell silent, looking at each other. Aragorn raised an eyebrow, staring at every single person, waiting for someone to speak. Finally, Faramir cleared his throat and broke the silence. 'Your Highness, forgive us for disrupting your sleep. But there is an urgent matter that I,' here, he glared at the older, 'wiser' advisors, 'felt you should know.'

His king motioned for him to continue, wondering when the actual point was to be broached. The steward, face serious, told him straight out, 'Rohan is being attacked by orcs, and they will soon be overwhelmed.'

Before anyone could react or protest, a gasp was heard from the doorway. Everyone, except Aragorn were surprised to find their queen awake. Aragorn smiled again, never ceasing to be amused by his beautiful wife. He knew the moment she even heard 'Rohan' she would be demanding to know what was happening to her beloved homeland.

Eyes flashing and golden hair framing her face, she demanded, 'How are there such large numbers of orcs left? Did we not destroy nearly all of them?' Her husband stood by silently, greatly enjoying how nervous his advisors were in the face of the storm that was his wife. Only Faramir dared to speak to her and Aragorn suspected, by the twinkle in his steward's warm brown eyes that he enjoyed how frightened the older men were.

'My lady, we did destroy many of the orcs, but unfortunately, there still seems to be one last band that managed to evade us. But I am certain that were we to aid Rohan in this battle, we would be able to exterminate the worse of them once and for all.'

One golden eyebrow raised, Eowyn stared at all the men as if they were children, 'Then why _were _you arguing? And why have you not summoned the troops to the aid of Rohan? Are you planning on having tea before setting out?'

Aragorn was doing his best to stifle the laughter that he was sure would bubble out soon if nothing was done to placate his wife. Taking her into his arms, he comforted her. 'Come now Eowyn, I am sure that the council was just about to do that, were you not my Lords?'

Dismayed, the men could only mutely nod their heads, defeated by the ferocity of their queen. Aragorn, still holding Eowyn, motioned for them to adjourn to the council room, where they could discuss their plans for sending aid. The advisors, led by Faramir moved silently and quickly under the glare of Eowyn.

Aragorn waited until the last of the men had left before he finally laughed and kissed his wife. 'Thank you my love. You just made my entire council run away in fear of your wrath and stop their childish bickering.' Eowyn shrugged sheepishly, and he laughed all the more, knowing that the men had never seen her truly angry, and if they did, well, perhaps he would have a more well-behaved, less bureaucratic council to deal with every day.

Still laughing at his wife's wonderful wildness that she had not lost_, _both man and wife strode hand in hand to join the advisors, their irritation forgotten for the moment. Aragorn thanked the Gods that Eowyn was still the wild and carefree shieldmaiden he had fallen in love with, along with the joy and amusement that never ceased to follow her. And he prayed that she would never be tamed, not by him, not by Gondor;_ not ever_.


	2. Grief Undone

**Author's Note: I apologize for the late update, but this chapter just did not work out the way I wanted it too, so I had to rewrite, rewrite and rewrite. Sort of a continuation from the last chapter, but can stand alone as well. So read, review and enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and it's universe, and any recognizable characters mentioned, are not mine. They belong to Professor Tolkien.**

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The first time Eowyn wept after she became Queen of Gondor, was when the men of Gondor returned to the White City, considerably lesser in numbers.

She stood waiting at the gates; praying, hoping that not too many would be sacrificed. She wasn't that naïve to think that no man would fall, but still, when the men came back, nearly halved in their numbers, she wept.

She wept seeing the bodies of the dead-_the few that they could find_- being carried home, seeing their wives and daughters and sons wail in despair at the loss of fathers and husbands and sons. She did not care that she was in the middle of the pathways of the gate, that everyone could see her sorrow and anger. The people stared, having never before seen their White Lady weep with such pride and melancholy, with her fair hair whipping about in the wind and staring blankly at the carts bearing the dead.

At the end of the solemn march, Aragorn wearily trotted up, removing the heavy weight of his crown as he did. His forehead crinkled up to see his wife standing there, despondent, unmoving. Dismounting, he reached for her and pulled her shaking frame in his arms, holding her tightly. He had not seen his brave wife break down ever; not since his harsh parting of her at Dunharrow.

Eowyn clung to him, held onto him as a wayward ship holds on to the light in the dark; mourning the loss of Gondor's proud sons. Aragorn, hearing her heart-broken sniffles, held her even closer as he gently stroked her fair hair and murmured soft whisperings into her ear; calming her, bringing her back from the midst of the storm of her grief.

Aware of the people gawking unabashedly at their monarchs, Aragorn swiftly tugged his wife up onto faithful Brego, who neighed and nosed his master's love with concern in his big, brown eyes. Eowyn let out a soft laugh and softly stroked his velvety muzzle, muttering a quick thank you to the noble horse. Swinging up behind her, Aragorn turned Brego back out of the gates and once more they galloped across the green wide plains that lay between Minas Tirith and her sister cities.

Burying her face in the coarse, thick mane of Brego, Eowyn tried to block out the sight of the bodies and the women and children who mourned the brief candle of life that out with but a blow. She did not see where they were heading towards, nor did she care. All she knew was that her husband was here, with her and he would pull her through this, just like always.

Finally they stopped in the middle of nowhere. Birds were trilling and flitting from tree to tree as if welcoming the King and Queen to their home. Slowly, Aragorn helped a still shaking Eowyn down to the ground, catching her as she stumbled slightly and slipped a firm hand around her waist. He smiled as he caressed the little bump that was the only evidence of his wife's pregnancy, kissing the top of her golden head as he helped her sit on the lush, rich earth.

Eowyn sighed, leaning against her husband's strong, broad chest as she curled her feet beneath her. It had been a long time since she felt the grass beneath her bare feet. She loved Minas Tirith and Gondor; it was her home now, but she still missed the carefree ways of living the Rohirrim practiced. Glancing up at his rugged face, she fondly traced the worry lines that had been present on his forehead since the news that Rohan was being attacked by orcs reached them.

He leaned tiredly into the comforting touch of his wife and lightly kissed her palm as he caught her small hand in his own. Brushing the stray tears that were still stubbornly caught in her beautiful grey eyes, he gently tugged her trembling body closer to his and tenderly combed through her hair. 'It is all right my love, let it all out, for none but the birds and the silent wood guardians shall bear witness to the tears that you weep today for our people.'

Safely enclosed in Aragorn's larger frame and away from the prying eyes and gleeful whispers; oh _how _she detested those womenfolk who foolishly thought that _their _common-born daughters would be more worthy of the King, the White Lady of Rohan and Gondor finally broke down completely. The strong barriers that she erected to conceal her grief were tore down at that moment by the insistent pounding of Death's cruel taunts and shouts of victory as He claimed the lives of brave men; _their _brave men. She shook and sobbed and mourned as she held on tightly to the safe harbor in the storm that was her husband.

Her salty tears soaked Aragorn's bloodstained and travel worn tunic until no tears would rush down her pale cheeks anymore. Neither spoke a word, for there was no need to as Aragorn silently bore his heartbroken wife through her storm of grief. Eventually, Eowyn cried no longer and as she slowly sat up and stared into the weary gaze of her husband, she realized that perhaps she was not the only one in need of comfort.

Gently gripping his beloved face in her hands, she kissed him. 'I am sorry, my love. In my haze of despair, I selfishly ignored that you as their King too mourn their loss.' Kissing him once more to silence the protest she knew was on his lips, she hugged him, burying her head in the crook of his neck, not minding at all the sweat and dirt and grime that covered his skin still. 'Let me be your rock now, love, as you grieve for their lost lives.'

Closing his eyes, Aragorn thickly swallowed the tears that threatened to burst forth from its cracked dam. He pulled Eowyn back a little and gazed into those clear, strong grey eyes that mesmerized him even when he saw her the first time standing at the top of Meduseld, calling to him, daring him to be entangled in the wildness that was her. Finally letting go, Aragorn lost himself in the comfort of Eowyn's soft, caressing touches as he shed the burden of leading his men to their deaths, and of being the dreaded messenger of death to their widows and children and parents.

For a long time, which could have easily been minutes or hours, as the blue sky started to blush prettily with a lovely rosy pink hue, the two legendary heroes of Middle Earth held each other close as they rocked through waves of despair and grief, with the birds of the wild staring rather curiously at them.

And though it was time for Aragorn and Eowyn, King and Queen of Gondor to straighten their clothes and hair and crown and retain their dignity and composure as they returned to their duties, and though this time, they would be the ones to give comfort to their mourning people, both felt infinitely warmer as they rode slowly back to the White City, fingers intertwined lightly as they gently touched and danced around each other.

And in the end, it was just another normal day in the lives of the beloved monarchs of Gondor.


	3. Morning Musings

**Author's Note: Again, sorry for the late update. Hope you guys read, review and enjoy this chapter. **

**Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and any character you recognize are the property of Professor Tolkien.**

**Savannah: Thank you for your review on the last chapter. I'm glad that you enjoyed the story. I hope you like this one too. :)**

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It was a beautiful day in Minas Tirith. The sun had just popped its head over the horizon and was staring cheerily down at the grounds and the people were scattered around, already starting to go about their business. The birds were singing and trilling without a care in the world and the North Wind breezed through the trees and gently waving grass.

It was a beautiful day. But Eowyn was decidedly _NOT_ happy.

For one, the little heir of Gondor she was carrying within her was quite active today, to say the least. He (for Eowyn was certain it was a boy) had not ceased kicking against his poor mother, thus waking her from what was supposed to be peaceful slumber at the crack of dawn, long before even her husband had awoken.

Tired, angry and grumpy, the Queen of Gondor had blearily pulled on a simple day dress and tried to creep out of the room into the gardens as silently as possible. I say tried, for the Queen, graceful as she was, had grown in size, so much so that the only way she could walk, was most assuredly _not _creeping. She _waddled._ And it was a horror to her.

Nonetheless, waddle silently out her chambers she did, successfully not waking her deeply asleep husband. She breathed a deep sigh of relief, having reached the gardens with no one way laying her, fussing about her health as though she were an invalid. The feisty shieldmaiden rolled her eyes. Try as she had to reassure everyone, including her beloved's oh-so-dedicated Steward, that she was most certainly _not_ going to drop in a faint from being alone, none of them had listened to her. _How wonderful it is to be Queen, and yet no one listens to you, _she thought wryly, shaking her head at their overt worry, _at least Aragorn did not insist that a guard accompany me at all times. Thank the Valar for small mercies._

Gingerly, she set herself upon a marble bench at the edge of a rose bush. She closed her eyes, lulled by the gentle swishing of the wind by her ears, and the smell of the fresh, green grass invading her sense. It smelt wonderfully of life, and soon enough, the exhausted Queen drifted off to sleep, the unborn heir seemingly fast asleep as well. Perhaps he had grown tired of tormenting his mother, just as well.

Now Aragorn had never been one to sleep in late, and as the sun fully stretched its way to the morning sky, he opened his eyes, sensing that something wasn't quite right. Turning to his left, he realized that the empty spot where his Queen should have been was empty. Smiling, he slid out of the bed and dressed for the day, taking his time doing so. Eowyn had probably needed some time alone from the anxious attendants and servants and just people milling about her, lecturing her on what to do to take care of her unborn child. He shrugged, not seeing the point in fussing too much about her. He knew his feisty wife could take care of herself, and would do what was best for both herself and their child.

The servants and various members of the court were starting to fill the palace corridors as they attended to their matters, and as the King strolled leisurely to the gardens, where no doubt his wife would be, everyone bobbed into hasty curtsies and bows as they rushed to look presentable for their ruler. Several flirtatious ladies of the court had even simpered at the King, fluttering their eyelashes coquettishly as they breathed out sultry 'Good Morning's, hoping that the handsome man would notice them, married or not.

Aragorn spared them not a second glance, only nodded tolerantly at their greeting and continued on his way, leaving pouting ladies who tittered maliciously on that the King could do much better than have _such _a barbaric and unladylike Queen. Why, she even rode to battle and wielded _swords_!

Finally reaching his destination, Aragorn spied his beautiful wife sitting on the bench, leaned against the stone wall, eyes closed as her hand rested protectively against her belly, as if unconsciously warding off any dangers toward her unborn babe. Walking silently to her, he smiled to see her asleep, breathing evenly with a small smile gracing her lips. He sat down next to her, enjoying the warmth she radiated. He did not wake her, for she looked far too peaceful asleep. Aragorn knew there was time for her to be moving about and fussed over once she was awake, but for now, he would let her rest.

The gentle breeze playfully ruffled the King's dark hair even as it caressed his Queen's golden locks. Aragorn smiled, imagining that even the wind was mindful of not wakening his tired wife. Eyes closing of their own accord, he slowly wrapped an arm around Eowyn and enjoyed the cool morning breeze, inwardly reminding himself that he had a meeting due in an hour, and that he was just resting his weary eyes.

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An hour later, Lord Faramir, concerned as to where his King had disappeared to, having not shown up at the meeting, chanced upon the sleeping couple, hands intertwined even in sleep. He smiled delightedly, finally understanding why the Queen's hysterical maid servant, Harva, had come running to him, wailing that the Queen had gone missing, and why his ever punctual King was not in the council room, awaiting his advisers. Faramir, ever the loyal Steward, silently left the gardens and the rulers of Gondor in peace.

Catching hold of a maid on his way back to the council room, he bid her to inform Harva that the Queen was well and safe, and to tell every servant and guard that no one was to disturb the royal couple today. Grinning, Faramir was delighted that His Royal Highnesses had finally wore themselves out to the point of seeking rest themselves, and that he no longer had to badger the two to get away from their daily duties. Whistling happily, Faramir strode towards the council room, glad for once that he did not have to worry about whether Aragorn or Eowyn were going to drop from exhaustion. He quickened his pace, determined that no one way laid him to send an army to seek out the 'missing' monarchs.

He had a meeting to conduct.


	4. Till Tonight, My Love

**Author's Note: Sorry for the late update; I have no excuse at all. So here you are, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's a little more suggestive than the earlier chapters (or my other fics, as a matter of fact) are. So the rating's up people, but no lemons. Once again, I bid you read, review and enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Lord of the Rings or its characters.**

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"My Lord, we _have _to start thinking about our _own _supplies! The people are displeased that such aid is given to the Rohirrim while we ourselves are only left with meager portions! This cannot do, Your Highness!"

"Your Majesty, the scouts have reported suspicious movement in the South. We believe that the Haradrim may be trying to attack one of our borders."

"King Aragorn, the farmers have requested an audience with you and the council regarding disputes of the prices of crops immediately and I think…"

On and on and on went the complaints. Aragorn was certain that he had heard at least a hundred or so complaints, requests for interventions and audiences, reports of war and piracy and even the odd marriage proposals for his yet to be born child.

Rubbing his strained eyes and pounding temple, he held up a hand which immediately stopped the roar of chatter throughout the throne room. He saw that some of the older advisors were looking quite affronted at being cut off at the peak of their impassioned speeches. "Oh please Your Highness, we should redraw aid from so-and-so." "This cannot do Your Majesty; we _must_ declare war before so-and-so attacks us!" "My Lord, it would be prudent to accept this marriage proposal from Lord So-and-so's son despite not even _knowing _what _gender _the baby will be! After all, it would not be at all _awkward _when the child turns out to be a boy!" He had enough.

Aragorn stood. His normally calm grey eyes were stormy and dark as they dared anyone to speak out or berate the King's interruption. None dared. Drawing a deep breath, he spoke quietly, and yet everyone knew it would be wise not to test their liege's patience. "We will reconvene after noon. I shall see all of you in the council room; there shall be order and each and every one of you," here another stormy glare was sent the advisors blanching and flinching, "_will_ present your claims clearly and calmly." Waving his hand dismissively, Aragorn's long legs took him out from the room before anyone could recover from the rare bout of frustration their king nearly never showed. "That will be all."

Formal black velvet robes billowing, he stormed out of the stifling confines of the throne room and headed out to the grounds to breath in the fresh air. If there was anything he missed since ascending the throne of Gondor, it was the freedom to _be _in the wilds; to hunt and track and melt into the comforting shadows of the trees and forests. There was no need to fret about the impending meetings full of strife and politics where he strived to appease every demanding lord or person. Sometimes he wondered if being King meant having to acquiesce to the oftentimes absurd and unreasonable requests of the advisors, claiming that they were merely 'looking out for His Majesty's welfare and favour". Balderdash.

Aragorn was startled out of his musings as snorts and whinnies brought him to the fact that his feet had led him out to the royal stables. He smiled, perhaps seeing Brego was just the thing he needed now. Pausing to acquire some sugar cubes from a passing young stable hand who nearly fell over himself to assist the King, the dark haired man slipped himself into Brego's stall, only to find someone else very much welcomed already stroking the chestnut horse's soft muzzle as she murmured softly into the equine's alert, flicking ears.

Aragorn stood behind quietly, not yet willing to interrupt the quiet moment between woman and horse. Golden hair swished and covered ice grey eyes momentarily as Eowyn laughed at Brego's attempts to nibble at her elaborate sleeve, and he yearned to sweep them back from her fair, freckled face. Once, long ago when he was but a youngling, he had thought the pale, flawless skin and large, doe-like eyes of the elves, of Arwen the perfect vision of beauty. Dreams were filled with soft, snow like skin seductively caressing his own, as a gently accented voice whispered promises of glory in a tongue he knew now was not, could _never _be his own.

How things have changed. Now, he desired not the soft unmarked skin of Arwen, nor her dark blue eyes he realized had been cold and distant and fickle. No, he would rather feel delicate hands gifted with rough callouses from the constant use of swords and handling of horses run across his shoulder blades as Eowyn gently eased the tension of the day from his weary body. He wanted to see her grey eyes twinkle in mischievousness as she ran off with his crown and shouted boldly for him to pursue her. He wanted to feel the strength of her embrace as they made love, bodies entwining fiercely as they joined in pleasure, moaning and kissing at the ecstasy of being one. He wanted wild, fierce, bold, daring _Eowyn._

A soft touch upon his chest brought him back to Middle Earth, and as he stared into his beloved wife's affectionate gaze, he gathered her into his arms, careful of the growing bump that was to be their precious child. Aragorn hugged her tight, hands tangling in her golden curls as he allowed himself to be rid of the day's annoyances and grievances for a while. Eowyn's eyes softened as she returned his embrace, reaching up to encircle her arms around his strong neck, stroking his black, wavy hair calmly as she had stroked Brego.

Eowyn knew her husband absolutely did not enjoy the politics of being King, and yet duty demanded that he responded to every whim presented before him. Aragorn had too much a sense of honour and pride to allow Lord Faramir to carry out the more tedious tasks for him; such was the seriousness that he held of his duty as King of the reunited kingdoms. And yet, he returned to their chambers each day, wearied and frustrated with the childish backbiting and fawning so often present between members of the councils who thought themselves so much more knowledgeable than the 'young' King who seemed so unlearned in the ways of the world. She did her best to soothe his frustrations and at times, even cow the advisors which, unfortunately, would only last for a few days at most. She could only hope that her love would be able to gain some peace from just being together.

Feeling the warm life growing within her belly, she kissed Aragorn's temple. Perhaps, their child would be able to bring him some comfort once born, and that the heavy furrow upon his brow would lighten and lift once more.

Gradually, husband and wife became aware once more of the shouts of stable hands and guards and of the familiar whinnies and nickers of the horses. Smiling at Eowyn, Aragorn led her out of the stall, though not before feeding the sugar cubes to Brego who greedily snatched them up in his large teeth and snorted his thanks as his tail flicked in pleasure at the treat.

Exiting the stables, the King smiled to feel the warm kiss of the sun upon his face, and the cool breeze that curiously combed through his hair and beard made him feel more alive than before. His wife stood close to him as the royal couple just stood at the entrance of the stables, relishing in the breath of the day. Peasants, guards and servants milling around glanced at them strangely, but went about their business with a smile or a grin at seeing the lovers enjoy each other's company. The city had went on without a King and his Queen for such a long time, that to see Aragorn and Eowyn so happily married and in love lifted their spirits that the future of Gondor would be very much assured in their capable hands.

A bell chimed through the distance, and Aragorn was reminded of the impending meeting with his advisors once more. Sighing he took his wife's hand in his again as he lead them both back into the palace. They strolled casually through the corridors till they reached the council room, where everyone was already taking their places, quietly awaiting the arrival of their ruler. Aragorn smiled wryly. _Onward yet again; ah the joys of being King._

Sensing her husband's reluctance, Eowyn reached up and tenderly stroked his rough cheek before laying a soft kiss there, breathing into his mouth, _I love you._ He held on, letting his fingers run free among the wild of her hair as he kissed her hard. She laughed freely to see the promise in his steely eyes of the time they will spend tonight, alone after everyone tires of their constant worrying of the unborn heir and of the constant complaints and pleas for the King to do this and that. And she shivered to know that they would both enjoy the pleasure the night promised, _very_ much.

And with a final silent farewell, Aragorn steeled himself to let go of the long, lithe fingers of his wife as he slowly strode into the council room. Eowyn cast one last longing look at her husband's retreating back before leaving for the gardens where she knew she will be left alone, if only for a while. A silent promise heard only in the hearts of the two, echoed through the hollow corridor as the heavy door to the council room shut with a heavy thud.

_Till tonight, my love._


End file.
